


You Will Be Found

by Perhapsormaybe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, but the ultimate goal is fluff, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perhapsormaybe/pseuds/Perhapsormaybe
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley were too good at their jobs. Heaven and Hell want them back as agents, but the only way to do that is to make them forget about each other. But no matter how many times they try, it seems Crowley and Aziraphale will keep finding each other...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Elle for the title, which is influenced by Dear Evan Hanson.

“And you're sure it will work?” Beelzebub asked again. Gabriel glared at them but it was Michael who answered.

“Of course we're sure. You just worry about how you're going to get yours back wherever you're planning on dumping him.”

Hastur shifted from one foot to another. He hadn't been in Heaven since he'd fallen, and he wasn't sure he liked being there now. “Don't see why we need either of them,” he glared at both bodies that were lying on the floor in front of them. Crowley laid on the left, Aziraphale the right. Hastur gave Crowley a kick. It was less satisfying when the person being kicked didn't respond.

“Like it or not,” Beelzebub sighed, because the truth was they _didn't_ like it, “Our numbers were better when Crowley was our man. Temptations, irritations, general unpleasantness – all of those went down when we lost him.”

“And yet somehow love and kindness went down as well,” Gabriel admitted, openly glaring at Aziraphale's unconscious form. He was loathe to admit it, but Aziraphale had been good at his job, or at least that's what the Analysts were reporting. “As angels, we are fully capable of making up for it, but it seems like a waste when we can do it this way instead,” He turned to Hastur. “Thank you for your assistance in bringing them here.” He smiled when Hastur shivered from the thanks – it crawled up Hastur's skin and made him feel dirty. ...Dirtier. 

“Right, let's get this over with,” Beelzebub stood above Crowley's body, their hands extended and palms out so that one hand was on either side of the demon's face. Gabriel was doing the same over Aziraphale. Both Beelzebub and Gabriel's hands glowed for a moment, then they switched places and repeated the process. “I think that will do it.”

“Yes,” Gabriel agreed. “When they wake up, neither one will have any memory of each other. And we can put all of this ...unpleasantness behind us.”

“And get to a whole new round of unpleasantness,” Hastur agreed, throwing Crowley over his shoulder. “Shall I just chuck him in a garbage bin?”

“May as well,” Beelzebub agreed. “He'll probably think he just drank a little too much,” Their attention turned back to the angels. “We'll see ourselves out.”

“No you won't,” Michael snapped. “I will see you to the door. You're not wandering around up here unaccompanied.” She walked them out of the board room, presumably to head back down the escalator. Gabriel watched them leave before turning his attention back to Aziraphale. 

He snapped his fingers and Aziraphale came to, sitting up and looking around with a bewildered expression. He jumped when he saw Gabriel, then quickly got himself to his feet.

“Gabriel! Lovely to see you,” Aziraphale continued to look around, clearly trying to get his bearings. “I don't suppose you could tell me how I ended up here? I ...I don't recall being discorporated, but you know, sometimes a human gets the ...I believe they say the 'jump on you' these days and -”

Gabriel gave him a clap on the back. The gesture could have been friendly, if he had done it with less force. “Aziraphale, let me walk you back to your bookshop.”

“Oh, no need. I ...I would still very much like to know how I got here, though-”

“I insist!” Gabriel ignored the question, walking out the door and toward the escalators, clearly expecting Aziraphale to follow. Aziraphale watched him momentarily before catching on, having to jog a little to catch up. “That bookshop of yours is quite lovely. Shame about that fire, but it seems it's all back to normal?”

Aziraphale squinted in concentration. “Oh! Yes, there was a fire. And the apocalypse didn't happen. You know, it's the strangest thing? I know that was a bit over a year ago but now I can't remember what stopped it.”

“Doesn't matter now. Ineffable plan, as you know. We only know what She wants us to,” Gabriel's smile widened. They reached the escalator and both got on. “Things are back on track. That's all that matters now.”

They took the escalator in silence, Aziraphale occasionally shivering but unsure of why. Well, he knew why to some degree. Gabriel had always made him nervous. But the refusal to explain how Aziraphale had gotten back into Heaven with precisely zero memories of it? Gabriel clearly knew, but he wasn't telling. 

“I'm sure you have lots of work to get back to -” Aziraphale tried when they reached the street.

“Nonsense. Let me give you a ride back to your shop.” Gabriel snapped his fingers and now both were standing in the back of the bookshop. Aziraphale smiled in relief to be back in a familiar setting, but the relief was short lived.

“Has my shop always smelled...evil?”

“Just this one room,” Gabriel studied him carefully. “Just the backroom, really. I believe you told me it was the Jeffrey Archer books.”

“Ah. Oh, I see...must be, then.” Aziraphale agreed, but looked unconvinced. Gabriel took a note of it. “Well, I guess I'll be seeing you later?” 

Gabriel hadn't missed the hopeful tone. _Interesting..._ So it wasn't just fear of the angels discovering Crowley that had made Aziraphale so nervous about being around them. But then it could be a residual feeling, one that Aziraphale no longer understood the source of. 

“I'm sure you'll be seeing me,” Gabriel's smile had grown even bigger now. “Often. May have some new tasks for you. I'll be popping in from time to time. Just to help, of course.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale tried to return the smile, but it looked twitchy. Gabriel gave him a pat on the shoulder before disappearing. Aziraphale inhaled. Not that he technically needed to, mind. He could choose whether or not to breath, but he'd read a few books that suggested controlling your breathing was the first step to managing your emotions. He was still troubled over the gap in his memory, and further concerned that Gabriel knew something but wasn't willing to discuss it.

Trying to push it away from his mind, he searched his shelves for something to read. Of course, he'd read most of his books already, but he liked to add to his collection from time to time. And even if he had read it before, well, so what? Lots of books were like old friends, worth time spending with a cup of tea or cocoa while you refamiliarized yourselves. He pulled an old leather bound off the shelves and frowned.

Normally he knew exactly where each book in his collection had come from. Many were from the original authors. Some were gifts from humans he'd helped over the years and of course he'd been known to allow himself the occasional (weekly) splurge. But this book he recalled reading a few times, but he could no longer recall the memory of when he received it. “Paradise Lost”was emblazoned on the front cover in bright gold letters. He flipped it open, only to find a note scrawled inside. Barely legible, it said:

_Angel,_

_Found this and thought you'd get a kick out of it. I certainly did. It's supposed to be several books, I hope you don't mind that I condensed it. You have too many books, thought I'd save you some room._

_~Crowley_

“Crowley?” He mouthed slowly, frowning. Tentatively, he lifted the book closer to his face and almost threw it across the room before coming to his senses – this was a book and therefore not to be treated in such a manner. The evil smell was stronger on this book than it was in the rest of the shop. And yet... he closed his eyes and concentrated. The book wasn't the only source of the evil smell. 

Some may tell you evil smells dirty, or disgusting or any number of things. To Aziraphale, evil smelled of a dark cologne, clove and just a touch of brimstone. Bizarre, but not necessarily unpleasant. And because it was a strong smell, he was able to track it to a few other books. Each one had a scrawled note:

_Angel,_

_Met the author and her sisters. Strange group, all of them writers. Keep hearing about this one so thought you might like it._

_~Crowley_

Then, in his copy of Pride and Prejudice two notes:

_To Mr. A. Z. Fell,_

_Your friend Mr. Crowley is quite insistent on getting my signature for this book. I do hope you find it as agreeable as he believes you will._

_~Jane Austen_

Further below that signature:

_Angel,_

_She makes it seem like I put in more work than I did. I just thought you'd like it. And that you wouldn't like me writing it in after her. Sorry._

_~Crowley_

He kept looking, finding more and more books that had clearly been gifts from this “Crowley”. By the time he reached the end of his collection, he had three hundred and sixty-nine books that had Crowley's name in it. He regained presence of mind for just long enough to close his shop before he plopped himself down in the middle of the books. “But who are you?” he wondered aloud.

* * *

“Oi! What am I doing here?” Crowley crawled his way out of the dumpster, picking a banana peel out of his hair as he went. He glared at a few teens who were laughing at him as he came out. They laughed harder, until the phones they were using to record his current situation all burst into flames. They ran off and he paused to watch them, letting out a small laugh at their misfortune. 

“Well, serves 'em right,” He decided, blinking slowly to cause the detritus to slide right off of him. He had a vague memory of Hastur coming after him, but after that just darkness. He shrugged. Well, that was pretty in line with how demons acted, wasn't it? Not like he usually gave humans any warning before he started making things unpleasant for them. So why should demons warn each other if they wanted to play a trick or do something nasty? 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his calendar. “...lunch with angel?” He repeated quizically. The appointment was repeated multiple times, going back for as long as the calendar in his phone existed and going as far into the future as it would allow. It was at least once a week, every week. “Who the Heaven?” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and looked around for the Bentley. 

Not finding it, he let out a low whistle and waited for it to come to him. It took only a moment to show up. He circled the car carefully, inspecting to make certain there weren't any new scratches or bumps. There was a vague memory of the car being destroyed, but now he couldn't remember what had caused it. And well, here the car was right in front of him, so that had to be a mistake, right? 

Well...an easy brush off for most people, and possibly even most demons. But not for Crowley.

Demons are naturally suspicious creatures. Crowley more than most. Having imagination on top of the natural suspicion made him extra cautious. And even if he'd been able to throw off his worries, to pretend like seeing the word 'angel' in his calendar wasn't odd, the smell in his car was impossible for him to ignore.

It smelled like ...sort of like the abstract of everything good in the world, mixed with a touch of light (how did light have a smell?!) and topped with the scent of desserts topped in whipped cream. It mostly came from the passenger's seat. “Who's been in my car?” he grumbled, looking around for clues. He found a tartan lunch kit sitting on the back floorboard. “Someone was _eating_ in my car?!” 

He crawled into the front seat and gently patted the dashboard. “C'mon. Tell me. Who's been in my car that doesn't belong?”

No answer. Odd. Wasn't like his car to withhold things from him. “Fine then. Don't know how this smell and this lunch got in here, but I suppose it can be washed out.” he snapped his fingers and the lunch kit disappeared from the backseat. But the smell wasn't gone. It had barely even faded. 

He checked his calendar again. Whoever this 'angel' was, Crowley was apparently also planning to have dinner with them tonight at the Ritz. “Fine, then. I guess we'll see who this is then?” Feeling in a rotten mood he pulled into traffic without changing where the other cars were. Several cars nearly hit him and he smiled and laughed at the sound of the honking and the people shaking their fists at him. 

Well, he had some time before this dinner arrangement. May as well make some extra mischief.

* * *

Aziraphale had lost track of time among his books, and not from reading them this time. He read and reread each of Crowley's notes to him, trying to figure out who he could be. Someone who must have been very important to Aziraphale – that Aziraphale had accepted the books with anyone other than the author's signature was testament that Aziraphale must actually _like_ this person. That there were so many of them, clearly given as well thought out gifts, said whoever it was greatly cared for Aziraphale. 

His first assumption had been a generous human, but some of the notes were accompanied by dates, proving it had to be from someone of the more supernatural side of things. His first thought was ethereal, but he'd never met and couldn't imagine an angel named Crowley. 

Aziraphale's phone buzzed in his pocket and he retrieved it. An alarm told him it was time to get ready for his dinner at the Ritz...

With Crowley. 

“Well. I suppose that's one way to solve a mystery,” Aziraphale grabbed one of the books so that he could more accurately question this being, before taking the time to delve into his phone further. There it was – he only had a few contacts in there, and he couldn't remember any of them. But his history told him that he called this Crowley quite frequently. The other contacts were either restaurants or some people he couldn't remember (Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer? Who were these people? He had a vague memory of a face, but it was like viewing them through a static-y television set)

He checked the calendar again. Apparently he was supposed to have had lunch today with this Crowley person as well. Well, hopefully Aziraphale wouldn't be considered rude for having forgotten that. He had no memory of this morning, but he was pretty sure he had been in Heaven around lunchtime. He checked his pocket watch and hurried along. Best to take the bus and to avoid miracles, if Gabriel really watching as closely as he'd implied he would.

* * *

“Mr Fell!” The hostess greeted him cheerfully at the front. “But where is Mr. Crowley?”

Aziraphale shrugged and smiled at her, in what he hoped was a friendly manner. If this person knew both of them she could help, but he figured it more likely that hearing he'd lost his memory of Crowley would upset her. 

“Oh, I see, he was behind you! I was worried,” She put a hand to her chest and breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. Her nametag proclaimed her to be “Trista”. Trista continued “I was so worried, I've never seen the two of you apart! Your usual table, then?”

Aziraphale was only tangentially aware of the hostess, his attention was focused on the demon behind him. He gave her a quick nod without looking away from the demon. Blazing red hair, golden snake eyes just visible behind the sunglasses. And beyond the air of him being demonic was just how...familiar he seemed. 

“Don't call attention to it,” Crowley muttered to the angel. He was starting to piece some things together, and it would be best to wait until they were in their seats to start dissecting what exactly was going on. 

“Are you certain?” Aziraphale frowned, conflicted. On the one hand, this was the enemy. On the other, he'd already agreed to dine with this being and it seemed rude to back out now. Which was the bigger sin – comporting with demons or canceling dinner plans with one? Well, at the very least Aziraphale could have a nice meal while he tried to figure things out. 

They took their seats and both smiled when Trista said their wine would be right out, not even bothering to ask them which ones they'd want. 

“Seems we've been coming here often,” Aziraphale said dryly after she left. “I'm so sorry, but I can't remember us arranging this meeting?”

“I don't either,” Crowley shook his head and pretended to look at the menu, actually looking around furtively. Ah. There in the corner – Hastur had done a poor job of his disguise, though whichever demon was pretending to be his date had put in the effort and was looking quite nice, Crowley thought. At least he approved of their heels, but he couldn't help but feel they'd be more suited to him. “Is any of your lot hanging about? Lurking?”

“Angels don't lurk,” Aziraphale openly glared at the demon, but then his face fell as something caught his eye above Crowley's shoulder. Gabriel was sitting at the bar, not bothering to blend in. He waved in Aziraphale's direction. Aziraphale returned the gesture even though his face looked miserable.

“All right, then, quickly,” Crowley leaned forward so the angel could hear him. “I'm Crowley. I was the snake in the garden of Eden. I have been on this planet for 6000 years. I have reason to believe you and I have know each other for the last few years and have apparently been meeting up for the last several years-”

“Centuries, at least,” Aziraphale corrected, dropping one of his books on the table and pushing it towards Crowley to read. “I'm Aziraphale. I don't remember you in the garden. I was on apple tree duty. I uh...well, it doesn't matter, but I guess I failed. I've also been here 6000 years.”

Crowley ripped his glasses off, his eyes focusing into Aziraphale's before he grabbed Aziraphale's left hand with his right, snapping the fingers of his left hand as he did so. The rest of the restaurant went still. 

“Did you just stop time?”

“Yes, yes, not a big deal because it doesn't last very long. This is important. Angel, _why_ is it so important to Heaven and Hell that we not remember each other?”

“I suppose we must have done something terrible-”

“And your lot didn't kick you out for that?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. 

“I...I do suppose it's uncharacteristically generous of them. But,” Aziraphale sat up, “Perhaps it's just that my record protected me? I have been doing a lot for humans for thousands of years. As best of a job as I could, really. I ..I think. There are gaps in my memory. May I try something? Before time starts moving again?”

“Whatever you do, do it fast,” Crowley agreed, straining with effort. “Most I can squeeze out for us is a few more minutes – three at the absolute most. And then I think they'll be moving on us.”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's free hand. Now holding both, he squeezed tightly, taking in a deep breath and breathing out, focusing all of his energy and abilities. 

He felt something inside his brain snap, like a chain had been broken. Suddenly all of the missing pieces were placed. “Crowley? ...Do you remember now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember, Aziraphale. Everything,” He gave Aziraphale's hands a squeeze, trying to communicate. “I remember, but I don't _understand_. I know they think Holy Water and Hell Fire don't work on us, but why bother to erase our memories?”

“Perhaps it was punishment, for-” Aziraphale stopped himself. He had almost said “Fraternizing”, but he remembered how Crowley had hated it last time. “For caring about each other. Crowley, what do you think they'll do to us now that we've remembered?”

“Couldn't tell you. Find me again, Angel?”

“Of course I will,” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's hands back just as time restarted itself. And then Gabriel's hands were on Aziraphale's shoulders and Crowley was flanked by Hastur and a demon Aziraphale wasn't familiar with. 

Crowley looked up at them, his expression bored. “Hey, guys. Did you want something? They have great wine here. Gabriel? Hastur? Anything?”

“How'd you do it?” Gabriel's face was a composition of calm. His voice, however, was strained and irritated. “I need to know how you two broke it.”

Hastur's date, whoever they were, grabbed Crowley's phone from the table and held it up. “Calendar and phone numbers for each other. They must have worked backwards.”

“Ah, Lilith. Haven't seen you in a few centuries,” Crowley said by way of greeting. She glared at him, but refused to say hi back. Gabriel reached forward and grabbed the book off the table, flipping it open.

“And Aziraphale figured it out from love gifts,” He made a face like he'd swallowed something unpleasant. “Well, now we know what went wrong. You won't be finding each other again. I'll give you a few seconds to say your final goodbyes. But I'm not moving – you'll do it right in front of me so you can't pull anything again.”

“Very well,” Crowley agreed, putting his sunglasses back on. “Aziraphale, I'll see you on the other side.”

“That's all you have to say? Crowley, can't you do something?” 

“Afraid not,” Crowley said, but at the back of Aziraphale's mind, he heard it. Crowley's voice inside of him. 

_We'll find each other again, Angel. I promise. But you have to look for me, too, okay?_

Aziraphale pushed his thoughts back into Crowley's head.

_Of course, my dear. I'll find you._

They shared a small smile, too inconsequential for the other demons or angels to notice, but enough for each other. And then their worlds went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They know Heaven and Hell have been erasing their memories. Aziraphale has an idea of how to get them to back off, though.

Gabriel sat rubbing his temples. He'd never had a headache before that he could recall. They were even more unpleasant than he'd thought they'd be. He was in Heaven, sitting in the largest meeting room. That was so they could have the demons sit on the other side of the room, as far away as possible, while still holding a conversation. He told himself it was just their stench causing his head to throb, but he had to admit that on some level he knew it was a lie.

“What attempt number was that?” He finally managed to ask Dagon. She flipped open one of her files, scanning through. 

“Six hundred forty-seventh.”

“Okay,” He checked with Uriel, who nodded her agreement. She had arrived at the same number as Dagon. “Who wants to tell me what went wrong _this_ time?” He tented his fingers and rested his chin on his fingertips as he awaited a response. The angels around him all look flustered. The demons looked uncomfortable and angry. 

“Aziraphale ate an apple,” Michael explained. “It uh -it apparently made him think of his time in the garden.”

“So, what have we learned?” Gabriel pushed himself to standing, a white board materializing behind him. He pulled a dry erase marker out of thin air, uncapped it and started writing:

**Bentley – scent inside car, tried making the car disappear but that made Crowley suspicious, tried sending him to America but he realized he was driving a car that was meant to drive on the other side**

**Apples – this is a new one**

**Angel/Demon scent – think we may have finally found a way to cover this scent**

**Books – found all of the books from Crowley – tried removing them and Aziraphale noticed that books were missing. Replaced them with new copies, this seems to have worked.**

**Ritz – have to avoid either of them going to the Ritz or even hearing it mentioned**

**Cell Phone – cell phones have been replaced with ones that do not have their calendars or previous contacts and will not automatically sync with their old information**

**Alcohol – certain wines remind Crowley of Aziraphale and some wines and harder liquors make Aziraphale think of Crowley. Have tried to make sure they no longer come across these.**

**Cologne – only happened once, less of a concern**

“Is it worth all this trouble?” Hastur finally asked. “If we can't kill them we could just … drop them off and stop working on this. It's too much of a headache.”

“We aren't quitters in Heaven,” Michael gave a self satisfied smile. “That's why we weren't among the Fallen.”

“Seems like I'm up here right now, too,” Hastur pointed out with a shrug. “Just saying, awful lot of effort. I threw my back out throwing Crowley in the dumpster six times last week. It's too much.”

“So maybe stop tossing him in the dumpster?” Uriel suggested. “You could have one of the other demons help you carry him out and just drop him in his apartment. Starting him off in the dumpster every time probably clues him in that something's going on, anyway.”

Hastur didn't comment. The only good part of this whole thing was throwing Crowley into the dumpster, knowing he'd wake up covered in filth and agitated. If they were going to keep making him deal with that, into the dumpster Crowley would go. 

“Let's just drill down on this,” Gabriel tapped the whiteboard with the tip of the marker as though he would start writing again. Nothing was coming to him. “Are there _any_ factors we're missing this time? Or do we finally have it ...perfect?”

There was a bit of agreeable, hopeful nodding on the angel's side. And a bunch of tuts and groans from the demons. Gabriel ignored them. If it wasn't for how tricky memory removal could be, he wouldn't be working with Hell now. But Beelzebub's abilities combined with his own were more effective. “How are the numbers?”

Uriel winced. 

“That bad?”

“Not bad, just-- you're not going to like it.”

“I doubt it could be any worse than what we've already discussed.”

“All right,” She opened her folders again and scanned the data. “During the time period where they wake up – that period where they're aware of who they are to each other up until we knock them out again, the numbers always go up. Love, kindness, compassion. We may have to consider that it's their own feelings for each other inspiring humans to act the same.”

Gabriel grabbed the folder, smiled genuinely at her...and ripped it into shreds. 

“Why wasn't he on our side?” Hastur whispered to Dagon. She shrugged. 

“Something was wrong with the numbers,” He said plainly. “Maybe they found a way to change them,” he snapped his fingers in Dagon's direction. “Your numbers, quickly – how are they doing?”

“You won't like that, either,” Dagon said, checking her own folder. “Jealousy, bitterness and a sense of impending doom go up when they're together and aware as well. Plus a general air of ...irritation. Some people don't like seeing happy couples. And when Crowley's happy it tends to rile the humans up, whether he intends to do it or not.”

Gabriel grabbed her folder as well and chucked it across the room. A fireplace appeared for just long enough to swallow it before disappearing again. “We'll try again,” he said through gritted teeth. “And we will keep doing it until we get it right. They've figured something out, some sort of code or something... they can't just keep getting away with it.”

* * *

“How long do you suppose we have this time?” Aziraphale pulled out his watch and studied it for a moment. This time it was Newt's fault that Heaven and Hell had failed – he'd come over to deliver a cake from Anathema to Aziraphale. Of course, since Aziraphale's memories of Newt were so closely tied to Crowley the moment he remembered Newt, the memories of Crowley came flooding back. He'd run from the bookshop, leaving a confused Newt behind. Aziraphale found himself at Crowley's flat in less than two minutes. An impossible feat if one weren't an angel. 

Crowley had opened the door, Aziraphale had grabbed his hands and now here they were, having tea at Crowley's table and trying to tally what number attempt this was. 

“It's been a few hundred, at least,” Aziraphale insisted, gesturing with his tea and miracling away the trace amounts that had sloshed onto the floor. “I wish I knew exactly why they keep doing it. But I suppose it could be worse. At least they kept us in London this time. I didn't care for those times I woke up in Australia.”

“America's worse,” Crowley said flatly. “They only tried that one on me once, though. I told you they took the Bentley away?”

“Yes, but they only tried that the one time. Seems you must have figured them out pretty quickly that time, then.”

“Must've. Angel, what do we do? We can't just keep forgetting each other and finding each other. – Not that I mind trying to find you,” he stammered the last part out, wondering if he might be offending. “It's just tiring. And we're losing out on time.”

“I agree. Besides, what if this is just the first step in a long plan? It wouldn't be outside the nature of either side,” Aziraphale drained the last of his tea. They'd decided to eschew alcohol right now. Better to try to keep their heads clear while they tried to think. Aziraphale blinked a few times as an idea formed, but he didn't know how to bring it up. “Er- would you trust me if I told you I needed you to grab something – well... some _ones_ , rather, and gave you an address?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Of course I trust you, but is there a reason you can't just tell me the plan?”

“It may help us to look like we're doing separate things. I don't think they know instantly when we get our memories back, or they would have shown up already,” Aziraphale waved his right hand and now he had a pen and a note card in front of him. He scrawled down what he needed and where to take them. 

“What exactly are you planning, Angel?”

“You'll see,” Aziraphale gave him a soft smile. “Meet me there in an hour. It may be our only shot at keeping them away from us for good.”

Crowley nodded and took off, while Aziraphale blinked and sent himself back to his bookshop. He set about pretending to straighten his books, but startled when he realized he wasn't alone. He found Newt still there. He'd found a science fiction book and was reading through it on the couch. 

“...Oh, dear, please tell me I didn't leave you here this whole time?” Aziraphale groaned. Newt nodded, but also gave a shrug.

“'S okay. You have a lot of interesting books – but I swear I only touched this one and I will absolutely buy it,” Newt insisted after seeing how Aziraphale's face darkened. 

“Oh, never mind, I just realized which book that is,” Aziraphale was back to smiling at him. “That's from the actual sell pile. Good to have a few I don't mind parting with. Take it with you, if you like. ...Oh, actually, you can't leave.”

“I ...can't?” Newt repeated. “As in, it's dangerous or as in it's impossible? It's not raining and traffic doesn't get bad for another few hours.”

“Sorry. Rather, I should say, I would appreciate your staying. I need a favor. If you could drive me somewhere-”

“Oh, of course! I don't mind giving you a ride.”

“Oh, the ride's not the favor. ...Though I suppose it's part of it. Need a way to get there, too. Rather I need,” Aziraphale ticked off the numbers on his fingers. “Three favors, I think? I hope it's not too much trouble.”

Newt smiled. He'd worried today would be boring, considering his only plans for today had been grocery shopping. Which was fine, but not terribly exciting after one helps avert the apocalypse. “Just call me your genie, then. So, first wish is the ride, second is-”

“I'll explain on the way,” Aziraphale said, pushing him out of the bookshop. He snapped his fingers to force the shop to lock itself. “Oh, but before we leave, please let Miss Device know that you're with me and safe and that her current visitor can cross you off his task list.”

“Current visitor?”

Aziraphale had already let himself into the passenger seat of Dick Turpin. “I did say I'd explain on the way?”

* * *

“Where we going?” Adam asked again from the backseat. Crowley glanced back in the rear view mirror and miracled some seat belts for the kids before turning his attention back to the road. 

“Does it matter?” Crowley hissed, starting to speed up to how he normally drove. Anathema shot him a glare from the passenger's seat. “What?”

“There are kids in the car, Crowley! You can't do --- well, the speedometer says 100, but I'm betting it's more like 150!”

“It's 145,” He said defensively. “And as I explained, Heaven _and_ Hell are after us.”

“And again, I bring up – why are we involving children?”

“I mean, we helped last time,” Brian offered.

“Yeah. And I remember us doing more of the fighting than you two,” Pepper added, crossing her arms as best as she could in the cramped backseat. Wensleydale on her right and Adam on her left groaned as her elbows connected with their rib cages. 

“See? They can handle it,” Crowley insisted. “Besides, it's not like Aziraphale to ask me to get kids involved. If he wants them there then there's a reason. And one of them's not technically a kid.”

“An anti-christ who's eleven years old is _still_ a child!'” 

“I'm twelve now!” Adam corrected. “And I know what Mr. Aziraphale's up to.”

“Oh?” Crowley slowed down a little, looking in the rear view mirror so that his and Adam's eyes met up. “Care to enlighten the rest of us, then?”

Adam gave him a knowing smile. “You'll see when we get there. We'll be there soon, won't we?”

“Excuse me,” Wensleydale piped up, “But actually where are we going? You told my parents you were taking us for ice cream but I don't think that's where we're headed. I would like to know where we're going, please.”

“Just got an address. Don't know what it is, but we're coming up on it soooonnnn,” the last word was hissed out as they pulled up to the building. A church. It was a small, intimate looking thing, but still a church. And therefore, still consecrated ground. “What is he thinking?!”

“Guess we'll find out soon,” Anathema shrugged before getting out of the car, then holding the backdoor to let the kids out. Crowley stood by the Bentley, pouting. “Aren't you coming?”

“Oh, yeah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm, “I'm in a real rush to go inside a building that makes my feet feel like they're on fire. Right on the top of my to do list, really.”

“From what you said, Aziraphale thinks this is a good idea. Do you trust him?”

Crowley threw back his head, frustrated. Anathema smirked, gesturing for him to come inside with her. “We probably don't have that long, anyway. So far as we can tell, the last few times they've wiped our memories of each other the most we ever got together was three hours. And I can sense them... they're getting closer.”

“All the more reason to go into the church now,” She all but dragged him along behind her.

* * *

Gabriel saw them pull up to the church, but was too taken aback to immediately make a move. “It hurts if your side goes into there, doesn't it?” 

Beelzebub nodded. “It's not suicidal, but it's not pleasant. And he won't be able to cause any miracles in there, demonic or otherwise. They're at half power-”

“But so are we, since we can't rely on your assistance,” Gabriel surmised. “It's not a great plan. I expect better from Aziraphale. What could they be thinking?” He tapped his lip with his finger as he thought. “All right. The angels come with me. You demons will have to be reconnaissance in case they decide to run out.”

Hastur waved him off. Taking orders was bad enough. Taking orders from Gabriel was a new sort of unpleasant. “I don't know that you get to decide what we do.”

“Then by all means, come with us inside the church,” Sandalphon was with the angels this time. “You can burn your feet off for all we care.”

“We'll wait here,” Hastur insisted, pretending it was his own idea. 

“Suit yourself,”Sandalphon agreed. He, Gabriel and Micheal were the angelic representatives for the task today. They made their way to the church walking so that Gabriel was in the middle, Michael on his right side and Sandalphon on his left. Gabriel waved a hand at the church door. It opened without being touched. 

“Do hope we're not interrupting anyth--” he trailed off at the bizarre sight in front of him. 

Aziraphale was dressed in a white tuxedo and standing at the altar, Anathema behind him with a Bible. Crowley was in a human's arms (Gabriel blinked and suddenly knew the human's name was Newton Pulsifer). Newt was holding Crowley bridal style, trying to keep his balance. Crowley and Aziraphale were holding hands. 

“Shh!” Pepper glared at them, indignant. “Would you want someone to interrupt _your_ wedding?!”

“Wedding?” Gabriel spluttered. “What in the Hel----” he remembered himself and where he currently was. “Aziraphale! What do you think you're doing?”

“I do believe I'm getting married,” Aziraphale said simply, his eyes not moving from Crowley's. “Anathema? If you would continue, please?”

“Of course, Aziraphale,” she looked down at the Bible, “Do you have the rings?”

“Oh, right!” Aziraphale pried the ring off his pinky finger and fiddled with it until it became the right size for Crowley. 

“I don't have one for you,” Crowley complained. Aziraphale blinked and the ring split so that there were now two of them – he placed the original on Crowley's ring finger and Crowley placed the new one (which he noticed now had a snake around the band in addition to the wings) onto Aziraphale's ring finger. 

“Now that which God has joined together, let no one break apart,” While the soft words Anathema spoke were directed at Aziraphale and Crowley, she glared at Gabriel as she spoke them. 

“Do you think this would stop us?” Michael asked incredulously. “Marrying your silly little demon doesn't somehow save you from us!”

“You can't break them apart!” Brian insisted. 

“Yeah, they're married now!” Wensleydale added. “You can't do that – you'd have to get them to have an annulment or a divorce or something. And those are always really sad.”

“They're not _always_ sad,” Pepper corrected, “But Crowley and Mr. Aziraphale getting divorced would be sad, seeing as they've loved each other for hundreds and hundreds of years.”

Adam was the only one being quiet. He instead got to his feet and placed himself in the church aisle. The rest of the Them took their cue, all of them falling in line behind him, their arms crossed, daring the angels into a face off. 

Sandalphon started to move forward, but Gabriel put out a hand to stop him. “Those are children. Yeah, one of them isn't, but the other three are out of bounds.” 

Adam ignored them. He kept silent, trying to look as fierce as he could. The other three followed his lead, trying to look imposing (After Adam, only Pepper came close to being successful). 

“Can you stop wiggling?” Newt grumbled, shifting again and trying not to drop Crowley as he did. The demon was just too lanky. It was hard to hold onto him, especially while he and Aziraphale were holding hands. 

“Just hand him here,” Aziraphale insisted. “I believe traditionally the marriage is not complete until the kiss, anyway.”

“You can't just pass me around like luggage,” Crowley insisted, as Newt passed him over to Aziraphale. 

“I could always let you stand on the consecrated ground?” Aziraphale suggested. Crowley glowered at him. “Well, then...may I?” Crowley threw his arms around Aziraphale and leaned in for the kiss. Aziraphale met it eagerly. 

The kids turned around in the aisle to watch, and all of them started whooping in appreciation. Newt pumped his arm in victory and Anathema closed the Bible, looking satisfied. “I do believe the vows stipulated that God put them together and no one should be allowed to break them apart?”

“They're just words,” Michael answered. “Just because a human says them and they repeated it doesn't mean-”

Gabriel shook his head. “Words have power. This is... I don't know what this is,” He ran a hand through his hair, though not a single hair dared to move out of place. “We go to Head Office.”

“You really think She's going to answer?” Crowley was beaming, but he managed a small, sympathetic shake of his head in Gabriel's direction. “Doesn't She have better things to do? ...For that matter, don't _you_?” 

It was easier to ignore Crowley while he was cradled in Aziraphale's arms. Hard to have a serious conversation with someone while they're in that pose. It didn't help that Aziraphale looked like he was struggling to keep them both standing. 

“Well, this is Her building,” Gabriel shot back. “I think we better try, don't you?” His eyes looked up towards the ceiling. “Metatron?”

“You have reached the Metatron – The voice of God. Behold-”

“It's Gabriel. Put me through to Her.”

“I am the voice of--”

“You will put me through _now_.”

Aziraphale wasn't sure who outranked whom in this situation, but regardless of station, the Metatron obliged. There was a tinkling sound and a beam of light appeared. 

_I am the Lord your God. Do not be afraid._

Crowley gave an awkward half wave in the direction of the light. Since his arms were full of demon, all Aziraphale could do was give a nod towards that way. 

“The Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the East Gate has married the Fallen, Crowley.”

_Oh. Congratulations, you two._

Crowley wasn't big on the idea of wedding presents, but if he were to get one he'd want a picture of the way Gabriel's face fell at hearing God offer them congratulations for their union. 

“Congratulations?” Gabriel repeated. “They've defiled your house! He can't ...angels don't get married!”

_I don't remember making any rules against it._

“Well, then, we can't marry demons! I'm sure there's a rule against that!”

_Not a rule I've ever made. They're married in the eyes of God. I have seen this union, and I pronounce it good. Crowley, Aziraphale, I give you my blessing._

“Oh. Well, thanks for that,” Crowley said casually. Aziraphale was momentarily speechless. He gaped like a fish until Crowley elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Yes, Lord, thank you. I -uh – I guess that is, We appreciate your wisdom. Just to be certain – you agree that you have brought us together, and no one, man, beast, angel, demon, should be allowed to take us away from each other? If I could trouble you for those _exact_ words?”

_I have brought you together. Let no man, beast, angel, demon or any other creature or being break your union._

“Amen,” Crowley breathed out a sigh of relief. 

Sandalphon made as though he was going to move towards the pair, right through the kids. Gabriel grabbed him and hauled him back, then put his free hand on Micheal's shoulder. Addressing Crowley and Aziraphale, through gritted teeth, he said “Congratulations.” Then all three of them disappeared. 

“We did it?” Aziraphale spun Crowley in a circle. 

“You're going to make me dizzy, Angel.”

“Sorry,” He stopped spinning. “Though I guess it does raise the issue of what to do about the demon side...”

“Probably not,” Crowley hoisted himself out of Aziraphale's arms and began awkwardly shuffling his feet, trying not to keep either in contact with the ground for too long. “They can't come in here, and my money's on that little memory trick of theirs requiring Heaven and Hell to work together. I think we're finally free of them.”

“But you're still going to stay married, right?” Newt asked. 

“You can't leave each other!” Adam cried. “You went through all this trouble, it wasn't just a trick to get them to leave you alone, was it?”

“Er- well, the thing is I didn't actually ask,” Aziraphale admitted. “So it's up to Crowley on if it's real or not.”

“Of course it's real,” Crowley said indignantly. “You gave me a ring, I was asked if I agreed. It was done all nice and proper, thank you. You're stuck with me now.”

“Dear, I've been stuck with you since the garden,” Aziraphale picked him back up again. “You look ridiculous hopping all over the place like that.”

“Yeah, and I'm sure I look much less ridiculous being carted around.”

“Well, better to look ridiculous than to look ridiculous and be in pain.”

“Is there going to be cake?” Brian asked. “My parents made me go to some weddings and there's always been cake afterward.”

“We can go pick some up,” Aziraphale agreed. “To the bookshop, then? Oh, but how will we get everyone over there...I suppose I can ride with -”

“You're riding with me,” Crowley insisted. “You can't just marry me and then immediately run off in some other man's car.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “No, I suppose that would be inappropriate. Very well. I'll ride with my husband,” he pretended he didn't notice the blush creeping across Crowley's face. “And the kids can ride with you?”

“I don't think my car will fit everyone, at least one's going to have to ride with you,” Newt insisted. All of the kids volunteered to ride in Crowley's car, then argued back and forth over who would get to. Crowley finally said that they'd all take the Bentley, what's another miracle or two to add another backseat. Anathema and Newt could take the bus back here to get their car later. 

The demons, of course, were unaware of what had transpired. They stood outside the church, lurking and waiting. Aziraphale set Crowley down once they were safely down the church steps. He stretched his legs out while walking around on the sidewalk to get his circulation going. 

“Crowley,” Hastur grumbled, then stopped. “Where did the angels go?”

“Frightened 'em off,” Crowley said with a modest shrug. “Must be my winning personality.”

Hastur didn't know what to say to that. He turned his attention to Beelzebub, but they shrugged. “I don't have the power to erase their memories all by myself. And I doubt Satan cares about these two enough for me to bring it to his attention.”

“Ah, well, always nice to be thought of as unimportant,” Crowley nodded. The demons glowered at him, but then disappeared without any fanfare. “Oi! If you're going to try to drop in on someone's wedding, bring gifts next time!”

Aziraphale looked giddy. “The kids are working out seating arrangements – it seems that I got 'shotgun' by default. Did you know that means the front seat?” Crowley rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “So, finally it, then. They think we can't be destroyed and now we can't be separated.”

“And all you had to do was marry me. What did you need the kids here for?”

“Witnesses. I knew Heaven wouldn't allow them to be harmed, and we needed people who had faith in us.”

Crowley fiddled with his new ring. “Do you regret it?”

“What is there to regret?”

“You had to marry me to get them to back off. You said I go too fast for you, and this is a few steps past where we were, you have to admit. We'd never even kissed before today.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, mulling it over. “The truth is, it was a two birds one stone situation. It got rid of what was holding me back – it got rid of all of the things we'd have to worry about, and at the same time gave me something I wanted. I only regret I didn't formally ask you first, just kind of rushed you along. I know you said in the church that it was okay, but-”

“How would you have asked me?” Crowley crossed his arms. 

“Oh, I don't know. Probably at dinner. At the Ritz. I know it's cliché, but I did quite fancy the idea of putting the ring in your wine glass.”

Crowley's eyebrows went up. “Fancied it? ...You were planning to...?”

“For a while now. Before they started with the memories,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“Hmm. And to think, I was planning on putting your ring in your dessert. Could have made an interesting story.”

“You said you don't have a ring! I had to miracle you up one!”

“Yeah, well, that's why I never asked,” Crowley snaked an arm around Aziraphale's waist. “I couldn't find a ring that would suit you or that you might have liked better than your current one. Have to get the ring first, right?” 

Aziraphale laughed, delighted and relieved. “So you wanted this?” Crowley caught Aziraphale's left hand and brought it to his lips. 

“I wanted this,” He affirmed.

The Bentley's car horn honked, jostling them from the moment. Adam hung out of the window. “Hey! You two have forever to do that now! We want to get some cake before we have to go home!”

“Sorry!” Aziraphale called, disentangling himself from Crowley and hurrying toward the car. Crowley watched him for a moment before slowly sauntering after him. 

“Forever to do that, huh?” He repeated Adam's words. “Fancy that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vows are not perfectly in tune with the bible - small reference to Mark 10:9 ESV   
> What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate.” 
> 
> The idea came to me today, but it came in the image of Newt having to hold Crowley in the church so he and Aziraphale could get married. I hope you got as much of a kick from reading as I did from writing it.


End file.
